Harry Potter and the Jedi
by Willow-Bee the Cat
Summary: Mrs. Figg decides to raise Harry after seeing how they treat him. Harry shows up for first year after living in a galaxy far, far away for a decade. Tries to answer the question of what power the Dark Lord knows not is. StarWarsHP cross HarryJaina Solo
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own or make a profit from Harry Potter or Star Wars.

Spoilers: Everything for HP and up to, but not including NJO for SW.

Pairing: Harry/Jaina Solo

Rating: T, for the moment

Author's Notes: Anybody who knows anything about Jaina Solo's love life in the various books will understand why I decided to pair her with Harry. As far as I know, there are **no original characters **in this story. I will try to keep it that way. If anybody wants to know who Jaina Solo is, they can look her up here:

starwars. wikia. com

Prologue

Arabella Figg moved to a house in Little Whinging two weeks into November. It hadn't taken much to get Petunia Dursley to trust her to care for both Dudley Dursley and Harry Potter.

Her assignment was going well. Not that Arabella was particularly pleased about her assignment. One look at Harry was enough to make Arabella consider taking out what few weapons she had and go Dumbledore hunting.

The poor boy was stick thin. There were several bruises on his body that looked like a hand. Gone was the happy, smiling baby she had occasionally watched for Lily and James. In his place was a sad, abused little boy.

Her husband had been a military man. Muggle though he'd been, Arabella was quite sure that Gregar could have killed a Wizard before they even knew they were in danger. Although considering what being reliant on magic did to a wizard's common sense, it probably wouldn't have been too hard.

Arabella was of the firm opinion that Wizards had become too dependent on magic. Using magic for every little thing couldn't be healthy. Not to mention the fact that so few magic users thought things through. They thought magic could solve anything.

Her parent had disowned her fifty-two years earlier, when no Hogwarts letter had come. Arabella had learned more living on the streets than she'd ever learned from her parents. She'd met Gregar when she was nineteen.

It probably hadn't been the best idea to try to pick the pocket of a man who's very being screamed military, but she's been desperate. It'd been a particularly harsh winter and with Grindelwald on the rise, it hadn't been safe for her to find shelter in Diagon or Knockturn Alley.

Gregar had caught her. When he'd started to yell at her in a language unlike any she'd heard before, she'd fainted. She'd nearly starved to death in the winter of 1938. If not for Gregar, she was quite sure she wouldn't have survived until spring.

She'd woken up on his ship. Spaceship. Sometimes Arabella still couldn't believe that there was really life on other planets. An entire galaxy's worth. The Republic… well now it was the Empire. Although, if the Rebellion had been successful it was probably the Republic again. Arabella wasn't really sure. She hadn't checked the HoloNet in more than a decade.

Gregar had only landed on Earth because he'd desperately needed supplies. Apparently the Republic had labeled Earth as "extremely dangerous". From what she understood, Earth was a planet in Wild Space that had only been visited by members of the Repu-Empire a handful of times. Most of those visitors had died. And those who hadn't had run into Wizards.

He'd given her the choice to leave the ship or go with him (mostly with hand motions). Arabella still wasn't sure what had made her stay on the ship. Maybe it'd been her sense of adventure. Or perhaps the way the twenty-four year old had looked at her; a mixture of pity, wariness, and desire.

On the way back to his home planet, Gregar had taught her Basic, the language most spoke in the Republic. It was not until they landed on Naboo that she'd found out that Gregar Typho was a member of the Royal Naboo Defense Forces. A year later they'd married.

Sixteen years later it had all fallen apart. Senator Amidalla had died, her husband, Anakin Skywalker became Darth Vader. Palpatine had created the Empire. Gregar had started working with the Rebellion, Arabella by his side.

Arabella had never been the type to sit back and watch if she could do something to help. She'd insisted that Gregar teach her how to fight. Gregar had been executed for treason three years into their involvement with the Rebellion.

Less than a month later Arabella had returned to Earth, taking the name Figg. Gregar had been the reason she left Earth. Without him she had no reason to remain. Later, after the pain from his death faded Arabella realized that she never should have left. But by that time Voldemort had started to amass power.

Unwilling to see him take over the Wizarding world, Arabella once more found herself caught up in a war. Nobody, not even Dumbledore knew how much damage "the old Squib" did to Voldemort's forces. As far as he knew, she was just somebody he could use because of her familiarity with both the Muggle and Wizarding world.

Dumbledore was a controlling, manipulative old man, in Arabella's opinion. She'd only joined the Order of the Phoenix to keep a closer eye on him. Dumbledore was willing to do anything for the "Greater Good," even sacrifice the well-being of a child.

Arabella was quite sure that Dumbledore planned to use Harry as a weapon. It wouldn't be hard to brainwash the child by the time he entered Hogwarts. Keep him abused by his relatives, then appear as a savior/grandfather figure. Convince the boy that Dumbledore could do no wrong and was one of the greatest wizards alive (most of the Wizarding population believed that to begin with).

Watching Harry sleep on her couch, several of her cats curled up next to him, Arabella decided that she wouldn't Dumbledore use him like that. But what could she do? Dumbledore wouldn't let anybody take Harry from his relatives care. There were spells Dumbledore could use to track Harry anywhere on Earth should he disappear.

Wait-on Earth?

It might work if she planned it properly. But how to keep Dumbledore from getting suspicious? And Harry would have to go to Hogwarts no matter what. It was a well known fact that magic users who weren't taught to use their abilities had uncontrollable accidental magic and many of the Muggle-borns who were not sent to a magic school went insane.

This would require careful planning.

* * *

She had transportation off Earth. Gregar's ship was still in good condition and had more than enough fuel to get her a mid-rim planet. It was a small transport equipped with a hyperdrive and several rather effective weapons. There would certainly be enough space for her, Harry and her pets.

Which led to the question of what she would do once she left Earth. If they were still alive, she could ask Senator Organa or Senator Mothma for help finding employment. If not for Harry she would join up witht eh Rebellion once more. Of course, she could continue to breed kneazle-cat hybrids. If she found the right planet she could probably make a living from it.

She'd already bought food that wouldn't spoil anytime within the next year. Most of her cats, kneazles, and hybrids had been sold, leaving her only five. More than enough for breading purposes.

She'd even decided what to do about Hogwarts. If she legally adopted him in the Republic-uh, Empire, then his name would show up as Harry Typho on the list of Hogwarts students. She wasn't sure if it would replace the name Harry Potter, but she was sure it would work. So long as she and Harry were back on Earth at least two months before his first year was supposed to begin, he'd be accepted.

The only thing left was to get Harry off planet safely.

* * *

Mon Mothma was quite surprised to receive a message encoded in such a way. That particular code had only been used by a rebel group from Naboo. After joining up with the Rebellion that code had been pulled from usage entirely.

It'd taken several tries to even find the right way to decode the message. She still wasn't sure how whoever had sent this had managed to get it straight to her instead of being sorted by her secretary along with most of her messages.

Pressing play, she was surprised to see the face of somebody she thought dead.

* * *

Dex's Diner was one of the few places Arabella knew of that had survived the war. Gregar had found out about the place from Obi-Wan Kenobi. Despite being in a bad neighborhood, Gregor had taken her to here on several occasions.

She knew Dex, Hermione Bagwa, and the various waiters and waitresses here well enough to know that they wouldn't willingly let a child be hurt. That was why she had chosen to meet Mon Mothma there. Unwilling to leave Harry in the ship just incase the worst happened, she'd had no choice but to bring him with her.

Five weeks under her care had done Harry a world of good. He was still a little thin, but now looked much more like what a twenty month old should.

Arabella sipped her caf, watching as two hooded and cloaked figures entered the diner. After a quick glance around the room, the shorter of the two walked over to Arabella's booth. The taller followed close behind. Probably a bodyguard of some sort.

"Mrs. Typho," said the shorter.

"No need to be so formal," said Arabella. "I hope you don't mind, I couldn't find a babysitter on such short notice."

"Who-"

"My grandson," said Arabella. It was true enough, she supposed. She'd adopted him on the first planet she'd found that had a government. "His name is Harry."

"Is that why you left?" asked the shorter, Mon Mothma.

Arabella sighed, feeding Harry some of the food she'd ordered. "I'm assuming you know that though my husband was from Naboo, I was not?" At Mothma's nod, she continued. "I come from a planet called Earth. My people have never been part of the Republic. When I was with that particular rebel cell, I fought because it was important to my husband. After his death I thought I had no reason to stay, so I returned to my planet."

"Then why did you return?" demanded Mothma.

"Several years after my return to Earth I realized that I never should have left the rebels." Arabella fought the urge to cry. "But my people were at war and Harry's father was very young. The war only ended about five months ago. Harry's parents are dead and other than his aunt I'm all he has left. I would rather Harry be raised in the New Republic, the Empire, anything other than on Earth."

"But your child grew up on earth."

"Look what that got him." Her voice was hollow. "A nice grave next to his wife and a son who will never know his parents. I played an active role in the war, one much harder to hide than the role I played with the rebels. Even though the war is over, there are quite a few enemy soldiers who evaded capture. There have been more than a dozen revenge killings in the first month after the war alone. The Longbottoms were tortured to insanity before law enforcement arrived."

Mothma glanced at the taller cloaked figure. The figure nodded once.

"Why did you contact me?"

"You're the only person I knew who was alive and not living on Naboo. I don't have any records other than my marriage certificate. I need a job, I'll do almost anything."

"I'll see what I can do," said Mothma. "Where are you staying?"

"On my transport."

"Typho's ship?"

Arabella nodded.

* * *

"Who was that?"

Mon looked at Luke Skywalker. At least he had waited until they were back at her office to ask.

"Arabella Typho. Her husband, Gregar Typho was the head of security for Senator Amidala during the Clone Wars. Senator Amidala was supposedly murdered by Jedi days after Palpatine declared himself Emperor. Typho and his wife helped form the resistance on Naboo. After Typho was executed for treason, Mrs. Typho disappeared. We thought she was dead."

Luke nodded. "Who was Senator Amidala?"

"A friend and ally of mine. She was very close to the Jedi. Master Kenobi and Knight Skywalker were friends of hers." Mon shook her head. "Do you believe Mrs. Typho was telling the truth?"

"About almost everything," said Luke. "When she said the boy was her grandson it felt like she was unsure. Everything else from the reason she left to where she was staying felt like the truth."

* * *

Arabella was in her element. It might not have been the best job around, and it was definitely busy, but her skills were being put to good use. New Republic Intelligence was certainly an interesting place to work.

She only worked as a secretary at the moment, but Mothma had promised that if she proved to be trustworthy she'd see about getting Arabella a promotion.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Harry was rather fond of his grandmother. Sure, she could be a little strange at times, but she was the only family he had left. Unfortunately his grandmother had just gotten stranger.

Why was she taking him back to her home planet so that he could go to some boarding school? He just couldn't figure it out. There was a reason why Grandma had taken him and left Earth.

He liked it in the New Republic. He'd already decided that he wanted to be a fighter pilot. He'd had it all mapped out. Then Grandma had announced that he was being sent to some boarding school in Wild Space called Hogwarts. This was going to throw off all his plans.

He'd learned English for Grandma, he'd learned the history of Earth from old, paper texts for her, he'd learned the geography of earth for her, but this was going too far. He didn't understand why she was insisting on this. It made no sense. Especially since she'd purchased datacards that covered everything he would have learned at school for the next seven years.

Why was she sending him to this place if he wasn't going to learn any of that? Did she want him to learn about the culture of Earth or something? And he wouldn't even find out what was going on until they reached Earth. She'd already told him that much.

The one good thing that had come of this was that Grandma had promised to let him fly their ship back to Coruscant at the end of the school year. She'd only started teaching him how to fly several months earlier.

* * *

"Magic?" Harry blinked at his grandmother. "Magic isn't real."

Arabella sighed. "You believe in the Force but you won't believe in magic."

"But the Force is real."

"And so is magic," said Arabella. "My parents were a witch and a wizard and you are a wizard as well."

"No, I'm not."

"Then how did your teacher's hair turn blue?" asked Arabella. "How did that glass disappear?"

"B-but magic isn't real."

"Just think of it like another way of using the Force," sighed Arabella. "I'm not sure about the exact science of it, but the magic used on Earth is probably another was of using the Force."

"So you're sending me to a school of magic. Why couldn't you have talked to one of the Jedi about me going to their Academy instead?"

"It doesn't work that way. I never would have let you go to Earth if it worked that way," Arabella said softly. "I've made so many enemies on this planet and no matter what they say, Hogwarts is not safe, but you need to learn to control it."

"Why doesn't it work that way?"

Arabella leaned back in her chair, a sad look upon her face. "How many times have you heard of a Force-Sensitive going insane because they weren't trained? Witches and Wizards who don't learn to use their magic have been known to go insane."

"Insane?"

"They have no outlet for their powers, no magical training to fall back on. If the magic doesn't leave your body in spells or potions or accidental magic it overwhelms your body. That sort of thing has been known to… short-out people's brains."

Harry looked down. "How much training do I need?"

Arabella seemed to be thinking. "Until the end of Fifth Year. From what I remember, the last two years are just specialized training in whatever subjects you pick. Which reminds me, you can and will study those datacards and keep up with your class level. I don't want you falling behind."

"Yes Grandma."

"And don't let anybody see your datapad. The people of Earth still haven't figured out how to get past their moon let alone make computers that advance. Technology isn't supposed to work right around magic either."

"Then how-"

"You're datapad will work fine. It's protected against EMP pulses, which is more than enough protection from the amount of magic at Hogwarts. I packed extra power cells just incase."

"Right."

"I'm going to get you an owl as a familiar just so that it doesn't look too suspicious. Every couple of weeks I want you to use the owl so that it looks like you're getting mail from somebody. I'll be sending you messages through your datapad instead."

"Understood."

"I won't be able to take you for Christmas break, but I will send you a present."

Harry cracked a smile at that. They weren't Christian, so they didn't celebrate Christmas, but they did celebrate Yule. It was like Fete Week, but better. In Harry's opinion at least. Grandma threw a party for her co-workers and let Harry invite his school friends over. There'd be a large dinner and their apartment would be decorated with all sorts of plants. There'd be singing and dancing as well, all songs from Earth and in English. After everybody left, he and Grandma would exchange a gift. He'd miss the party, but it probably wouldn't be too bad.

* * *

Mr. Harry Typho

Cargo Hold

Naboo Transport, Joy of Moenia

Canna

Harry raised an eyebrow at that. He hadn't known that Hogwarts was so accurate. For a moment he wondered if whoever sent the letters read the addresses.

"Grandma, my letter arrived."

Arabella poked her head into the cargo hold. "Is the owl still here?"

"Yup," said Harry. It had been strange to see an owl fly through the open hatch and into the hold. The owl rested on a box, watching him.

"I'll write out your acceptance, then we'll head to Diagon Alley for your supplies," she said. "There should be enough money in my account to cover what you need. Make sure you wear plain trousers and a simple white shirt, long sleeve."

"Got it."

* * *

Having grown up on a planet such as Coruscant, Harry found Diagon to be… odd to say the least. He couldn't even begin to describe how out of place he felt. Grandma fit in perfectly, wearing a plain, ankle length dress she called a robe and her hair in a simple bun. Sure, he looked like he belonged as well, but he didn't and he knew it.

Although now she claimed to be Arilé Typho. He wasn't sure exactly why she was using the alias, but didn't want to ask in a place so public. Maybe later, once they were back at the ship.

They'd gotten almost everything on his school list, including a beautiful snowy white owl. The only thing left was to get his books. Harry knew exactly why Grandma had planned it that way. Whenever they went shopping, Harry would inevitably be distracted by datacards about everything from history to science to math to fiction. Grandma probably thought he'd react the same way in the bookstore.

As they entered the store, Harry realized that his grandmother was right. Even if this place was unbelievably primitive, even if he had to go to some school in the middle of nowhere to learn _magic_, even if his dream of becoming a pilot was delayed for a year or two, these books made it worth it.

* * *

Watching Harry peruse the history books, Arabella bit back a smile. He was so happy. Definitely a Ravenclaw in the making.

She was once more grateful that she'd thought to have his eyesight corrected and scar removed. Without them, he only bore a passing resemblance to James Potter. That scar had been far too recognizable as well.

She went to gather his schoolbooks, knowing how easy it was for Harry to get caught up in the pursuit of knowledge. Harry had been at the top of his class back on Coruscant. He'd even skipped a year level. Around other students he acted like a normal child, hiding how smart he truly was. No doubt a side effect of being raised by somebody who worked for NRI.

Maybe he'd be a Slytherin instead. He was certainly ambitious enough for it.

She'd started teaching him basic survival skills at a young age. Well, what she considerd basic survival skills, at least. Arabella had decided early on that if Harry was going to be schooled right under Dumbledore's nose, he had to be able to take care of himself.

Arabella had made sure that Harry had a good childhood. She'd made sure that he knew how to fight and plan and _think_ without relying on magic. If she continued his training, Arabella was quite sure that by the time he applied for New Republic Fleet Academy (1) he would be a formidable foe.

Harry didn't think she knew about his desire to become a navy pilot. He should have realized that one couldn't hide mush from an intelligence agent. Especially one you lived with.

* * *

Harry glanced at the family of redheads standing near the barrier between platforms nine and ten. From their clothing and luggage he assumed they were Hogwarts students as well. Why were they waiting there?

With a mental shrug Harry decided to find out later. He wanted to get on the train early and find a good compartment. Someplace easy to defend. Harry still wasn't sure he liked the thought of these Wizards.

Harry had come to the conclusion that Grandma was right about the ratio of common sense to magical abilitie from his visit to Diagon Alley. He still couldn't figure out why Knockturn Alley was so public. Who in their right mind would put a black market there and then practically advertise the fact that one could find just about anything illegal in it?

Why were they making it so easy to be caught? Never mind. Harry was pretty sure he didn't want to know the answer to that. Dark magic had probably fried what few brain cells the store owners of Knockturn Alley had.

Arabella hugged him, then said, "I want you to send me a letter tomorrow to let me know what house you're sorted into." She leaned in close, presumably to kiss his cheek. "Be careful. Those redheads were the Weasleys. Very loyal to Dumbledore. Stay away from DE spawn and Dumbledore's minions, neither are to be trusted. There's a list of families aligned with both in your pocket."

As she pulled away, Harry said, "Yes Grandma."

"I'll see you in the summer."

* * *

Harry eventually settled on a compartment in the last car of the train. He didn't particularly like the layout of the compartment, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

About ten minutes before the train was set to leave, a boy opened the compartment door. He looked to be about the same age as Harry. The boy was a little pudgy with brown eyes and hair.

"D-do you mind if I…"

Harry sighed. Even if magic users were idiots, he would eventually need to make friends. It would be unbearable to go nearly a year without anybody to talk to.

"Sure," he said. "I'll help you with your trunk."

After they'd settled, the boy introduced himself as Neville Longbottom.

"Harry Typho," he said.

"Muggleborn?" Neville asked quietly.

Eyes narrowed, Harry said, "More like half-blood. My grandmother's a squib. The rest of the family was Muggle. Is that a problem?"

Neville quickly shook his head. "Sorry. I just-"

Whatever Neville was going to say was interrupted by the door opening again. A girl with bushy hair and large brown eyes stood in the doorway.

"Can I sit here?"

Harry nodded. "Let me get your trunk. I'm Harry Typho and that's Neville Longbottom."

"Hermione Granger," she said. "Are you two first years as well?"

Harry heard Neville say yes as he put the trunk next to his own.

"Me too." Harry sat down again.

"Do you know what house you want to be in?" she asked excitedly. "Supposedly people from the same family tend to be put into the same house, but I'm the only witch in the family and-"

"I wouldn't worry if I were you," said Harry. "You get sorted based on personality."

"I'll probably be a Hufflepuff," Neville said miserably.

"So being loyal and hardworking is now a bad thing," Harry said. "Good to know."

"I've been reading and I really think Gryffindor is the best house," said Hermione.

"Ah, the house of the brave, the fearless, the foolhardy idiots who rush off into battle without thinking things through." For a moment Harry considered his grandmother's advice on remaining in the background at Hogwarts. Five, maybe seven years old holding his tongue would not end well.

"How could you say that?" demanded Hermione.

He just smiled. "What good is bravery without knowledge and planning?"

"What house do you want? Ravenclaw?" asked Neville.

Harry shrugged. "According to Grandma, my family generally ended up in Slytherin. But who wants to be in a house declared evil by the rest of the school? As for Ravenclaw… I may like learning, but I like being a normal student. You know my opinion on Gryffindor and Hufflepuff."

"There's nothing left, then."

"I'll go where I'm sorted. Until then it's no use trying to figure it out." He paused. "By the way, there's a frog near the door."

* * *

Harry watched as Hermione, then Neville were sorted into Gryffindor. Hermione was quite obviously the type of know-it-all that felt the need to stuff knowledge down the throats of others. Neville, despite being scared of his own shadow had been sorted into the house of the brave.

Did he really want to take the time and energy to make new friends? No, not particularly. Those two would serve well enough as friends. Now to convince the hat to put him into Gryffindor.

"Typho, Harry," called out McGonagall.

Harry sat down on the stool, allowing the hat to be placed on his head. He was tense, ready for anything.

_'Interesting… Never sorted a student from another planet before. You're certainly ambitious and cunning enough for Slytherin… As loyal as Lady Hufflepuff herself and very hardworking… Your pursuit of knowledge is for your goals alone… Ravenclaw wouldn't do at all… Your assessment of Gryffindor is certainly correct on most occasions. Students these days don't know the true meaning of bravery… You want to be in Gryffindor? Why? You'd make a very good Slytherin or Hufflepuff…I see… If you're sure, better be _"GRYFFINDOR!"'

Harry ran over to the table, sitting next to Hermione and across from Neville. They'd smiled and congratulated him.

Harry couldn't help but say, "Well somebody has to make sure you two don't run off and do something foolishly brave."

Ten minutes into the meal, Harry was beginning to regret his choice. Ron Weasley was an annoying idiot who had quickly joined up with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan. All three of them had decided to share their stupidity, collectively lowering the IQ of the house. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil seemed to be joined at the hip after only a couple minutes of chatting about boys and things best not thought about by said boys. At least he could have a semi-intelligent conversation with Neville and Hermione.

Harry glanced up at the various professors, wondering what their teaching methods were like. He clenched his teeth, fighting the urge to show his pain. The moment he'd looked at their table, a stabbing, throbbing pain had flitted across the right side of his forehead.

He wasn't sure exactly why he'd felt that pain, but best to be cautious. He'd need to find out where it came from. Grandma had said the school was dangerous, and he didn't want to be on the receiving end of that danger.

* * *

Arabella blinked at the message. Gryffindor? That certainly wasn't what she'd expected. A good choice, though. He'd even started a friendship with that Longbottom boy and a Muggle-born girl.

Gryffindor had the highest number of Dumbledore's minions in it. They were frighteningly loyal to the man. But he was right under Dumbledore's nose. Arabella doubted he'd suspect one of the Gryffindors of anything other than pranks unless it was serious.

The friends Harry had chosen were some of the best available options as well. Augusta Longbottom had a grudge against Dumbledore a kilometer long. Understandable considering the old man had promised to protect Frank and Alice and had then left them open for attack.

As for the girl... So long as Harry and Neville made sure she knew Dumbledore wasn't all-powerful, it would be fine. At least the girl hadn't been brainwashed into thinking Dumbledore was the next Merlin her entire life.

* * *

Harry watched a beautiful snowy owl fry through the Great Hall. Like the other owls in Hall, she was delivering mail. Although this was a letter her master had given her the night before, when he'd told her to fly to Canna, a small island off Scotland, then return.

She landed next to his plate and held out her leg. He took the letter and fed her some bacon.

"Is this from Grandma?" he asked softly. "I wasn't expecting her to reply this quickly."

"Is that you're owl?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah. Grandma got her for me when I was accepted to Hogwarts," he explained. "She thought I wasn't going to be at all magical, like my father."

Hermione blinked, looking slightly confused. "Why-"

"Mrs. Typho is a squib," explained Neville. "The rest of Harry's family is completely non-magical. What's your owl's name?"

"Umé," said Harry. He'd considered naming the owl something like Hedwig, but had then decided on a name from Naboo. "It means dancing light."

"That's a very pretty name. Where did you get it from?"

"My great-grandmother. Grandpa wasn't from the United Kingdom. He and Grandma couldn't even understand each other when they first met." He smiled. He and Grandma had already thought of a coverstory for his granfather. "He was a sailor and they met while he was on shore leave."

* * *

1) I have assumed that the New Republic Fleet Academy works the same way as the Air Force Academy. If I'm wrong, please tell me. 


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Harry had quickly decided that Hogwarts was a semi-sentient maze masquerading as a castle. Sometimes it seemed that the castle enjoyed trying to get the students lost. If not for Hermione insisting they leave early for each class, they undoubtedly would have been late on numerous occasions.

Four days in this place and they'd already lost their way twenty-three times. Something had to be done.

"Nev, Mione," said Harry, trying to get their attention.

They were currently in the library; working on the essays they'd been assigned and helping Neville understand the theory behind several subjects. Hermione seemed to want to marry the library and Neville was so grateful for their help that he didn't care they were missing out on playing games back in the common room. Harry, while not as obsessive as Hermione, certainly enjoyed the library and found no reason to object to this arrangement.

"Harry," whispered Hermione. "I don't like people shortening my name."

"Of course, Mione," smirked Harry. "I was thinking. We should explore the castle or something."

"But we have class in the morning and curfew is in two hours," said Neville.

"Which is why I thought we should wait to explore until tomorrow afternoon or the weekend. We can't keep getting lost like this. And anyway, an old castle like this probably has some really cool secret passages."

Hermione bit her lip, thinking it over. "Alright, but I don't want to get into trouble."

"Why would you? There's nothing in the rules against exploring the castle."

* * *

Minerva McGonagall had never married or had children. Her Gryffindors were the closest she would ever get to having a child. Though strict, she thought of them as children and grandchildren of her very own. As a surrogate mother to them, she was fiercely protective of them.

The body of what they assumed was Arabella Figg had been found in her house when neighbors complained about the smell. It was hard to tell whether or not the body really was Arabella's, but it made sense. The body had been subjected to so many curses and jinxes that it was impossible to tell what it had originally been.

She'd been heartbroken when she'd heard the fate of Harry Potter. After they found out about Arabella's death they'd rushed to check on Harry. From what they could get from Petunia Dursley "the freak disappeared in the middle of the night." After numerous attempts to locate the boy, they'd given up.

She'd been so hopeful when they'd started addressing letters. But the quill had skipped over Potter, Harry completely. She was sure that the boy was either dead or out of the country. Hogwarts only invited children living in the British Isles to attend.

"It's that way," she heard a male voice say.

"No, the Tower is that way," insisted a female voice.

"Guys, what if we get lost?" asked a second male voice.

"We're already lost," said the female. "Mr. Big Strong Man over there just doesn't want to admit it."

"We are not lost," growled the first male voice.

"Then where are we?" asked the female, sounding rather smug.

"Here. That's where we are. Here."

Minerva smiled at that. She stood up and opened the door to her office. Three of her Gryffindor First Years were standing several feet away. Granger, Typho, and Longbottom if she remembered correctly.

"Hello Professor McGonagoll," said Miss Granger, the two boys echoing her.

"Good afternoon," she said in reply. "Where are you three heading to?"

"East Tower," said Mr. Typho. "We're exploring so we don't keep getting lost."

She couldn't help but smile sadly at his statement. She could remember quite clearly the numerous occasions James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and Remus Lupin had given her that excuse.

"Make a left at the end of the hall."

"Thanks Professor," the three of them said, running off.

Closing the door to her office, Minerva felt grateful that those three students had found each other. They didn't fit the typical mold of Gryffindor, and doubtless would have had a tough time making friends with their housemates.

Miss Granger was enough of a know-it-all (though Minerva hated to admit it) that the other boys in Gryffindor would find her annoying. She was too much of a tomboy for her female classmates as well. Maybe some of the upper years would have approved of Miss Granger, but they certainly wouldn't become close friends with somebody so much younger.

Mr. Longbottom was so soft-spoken, timid, and forgetful that his male housemates wouldn't want to be around him. He didn't act like the typical Gryffindor, despite having enough bravery for the hat to put him there.

As for Mr. Typho… That boy would probably make her want to her pull out her hair by the end of the year. He was so cynical for an eleven year old. Not to mention his open disdain of the "typical idiotic Gryffindor courage." A bit of a smart-ass too. But he was intelligent. Mr. Typho acted more like a Slytherin was expected to than a Gryffindor.

* * *

Harry rolled his eyes. Some bleach blonde Slytherin boy and Weasley were having a loud argument right in front of the Great Hall. It was far too early in the morning for this sort of thing.

He carefully led Hermione and Neville around the edge of the forming crowd of Gryffindors. Neville looked like he wanted to go help his housemate.

"Don't bother, Nev," said Harry, sitting down at Gryffindor table. "They don't know enough magic yet to hurt each other. And that Slytherin looks like too much of a snob to get physical."

Hermione was shaking her head as she put eggs on her plate. "A week and a half into the school year and they're already fighting. They're going to make us loose points."

"You do realize the point system is a way to control the masses and foster house rivalry and house pride, right?"

"Huh?" said Neville.

"The points don't really mean anything," Harry explained. "They're a reward so people want to do well, or at least not break any rules. Positive reinforcement. When a person looses their house points, their housemates are upset with them. Negative reinforcement."

"I didn't quite think of it that way," said Hermione.

* * *

Harry, Hermione, and Neville quickly settled into a routine. They went to class, did their assignments in the library after dinner, played games together in the evening, and on the weekend they'd wander the castle and the grounds.

With Hermione and Harry's help, Neville was getting strait As (Acceptables) along with the occasional E or O (Outstanding and Exceeds Expectations), generally in DADA or Herbology and sometimes Charms. Harry and Hermione generally received Os and Es in everything except for Potions. Harry still didn't like being at Hogwarts, but he'd come there to learn to control his magic and took his education seriously.

Harry was of the firm opinion that Professor Snape should not be teaching students. The man treated anybody who wasn't a Slytherin horribly. Not to mention that his teaching methods were atrocious. Writing instructions on a board and yelling at the students to do the potion was not teaching.

Neville was struggling in the class, mostly because Snape frightened him. Every Friday afternoon, the three of them would go over what they were "taught" in Potions and try to figure out why the potion worked the way it did. Then they'd make the potion again (generally this was done by having Neville make the potion while Harry and Hermione offered him tips). Neville had yet to make a mistake on a potion they brewed potions by themselves and now seemed to have at least a basic understanding of what was going on in class.

Harry would occasionally send Umé out with a fake letter from his grandmother. At night and earlier in the morning when his dormmates were asleep, Harry would study his datacards. He'd managed to keep up with his yearmates back on Coruscant, but sometimes the effect his studying had on his sleep schedule was difficult. After all, he was getting two educations at the same time.

It took a while to for a message from Earth to reach Coruscant, but he and his grandmother were keeping in regular contact. He'd gotten several messages from friends back home, but after the first month, it seemed to taper off.

He'd been expecting that. Really, he had. By the end of the year he probably wouldn't even be speaking to them. All because he was currently on the other side of the galaxy.

_

* * *

The room was hazy, everything seemed to blur around the edges. She could faintly make out a brown haired girl cowering under what looked like a sink. In the middle of the room was a large… she couldn't even begin to name what the thing was, with a boy hanging off it's back._

_A black haired boy jumped in front of the creature. The black haired boy shouted something she couldn't hear and pointed a… stick at the creature. Her eyes widened at the blue light that came from the stick._

_The creature seemed to be angry. It swung its club around, smashing the black haired boy into a wall. Swinging again, the boy was thrown at another wall._

_She cried out, shouted something, but no noise came. She closed her eyes as the boy hit the ground. Fighting tears, she opened her eyes. The boy with black hair lay on the ground, a puddle of blood steadily growing…_

"…ya? Jaya? What's wrong?"

After a moment Jaina Solo's eyes opened. She latched on to Jacen letting herself cry. All her twin was able to get out of her was "He's dead." The next day Jaina refused to tell either of her brothers what she had dreamed about.

* * *

Despite being terribly busy with this Caamas Document nonesense (so what if an entire planet was made unliveable, it was nothing compared to some of the things she'd seen Death Eaters do to their victims. She knew plenty of people who would rather have lived on Caamas during and after the Imperial Bombardment rather than be attacked by Death Eaters… well they would if they knew what Caamas was) Arabella still found time to write to Harry. They'd worked out a schedule of sorts. She sent him a letter once every two weeks and he did the same.

His letter was a week early. Arabella felt her stomach drop to her knees. That couldn't possibly be good. It was nearly the end of her lunch break (not that she'd actually left her desk), there wasn't enough time to read it. But it was so early.

With a shaking hand she opened the letter.

* * *

Iella Antilles paused at the doorway. She'd intended to ask Arabella Typho about some of the reports she'd filed, but the sight of the woman was not what she expected.

Arabella was generally known as being completely unflappable. Something had happened, that much was obvious. Her skin was a horrible gray color that matched her hair. She sat behind her desk staring unblinkingly at a datapad.

"Arabella, are you all right?" asked Iella.

After a moment Arabella closed her eyes. "My grandson. He's alive, but he wrote me the letter from his school infirmary."

She faintly remembered meeting the black haired, green-eyed boy at one of Arabella's Yule parties. He seemed like a nice enough boy. She couldn't really tell, he'd been surrounded by friends at the time.

"What happened?" she asked, sitting in a spare chair.

Arabella opened her eyes. "A _mountain troll_ snuck into the school during their _Halloween_ Feast. Harry and his friends were cornered by it."

"What's a monta toll?" asked Iella.

"_Mountain troll_," corrected Arabella. "A three meter tall creature from my home planet. They're very dangerous, but a _troll_ shouldn't have been able to sneak into the school. It's supposed to have better security than that."

"How badly injured was Harry?"

"He didn't say, but according to the letter, he should have been out of the infirmary by the time I got this letter." Arabella shook her head. "I think the boy is more frightened of what I'll do when I get my hands on him than he was of the _troll_."

"Why would you say that?"

"Listen to this," said Arabella, her color returning. "'Grandma, _Halloween_ was definitely interesting. Is it a traditional to let dangerous creatures into a place were helpless children reside on _Halloween_? Just wondering. Anyway, Weasley was really mean to Hermione (he called her an annoying know-it-all with no friends even though Neville and Hermione and I are really close) and she ran off to cry in one of the _toilets_.

"'Hermione said she wanted to be alone for a little while so we went to go pay Weasley a visit. By the way, if Dumbledork or McGonagall asks, Nev and I had nothing to do with Weasley's black eye. We went to the feast without Hermione and saved her a spot, but she didn't show.

"'Near the end of the feast Quirrell came running in shouting about there being a _troll_ in the dungeons, then he fainted. Just wondering, is it normal for a man to faint after telling us about danger? The guy's scared of his own shadow. It would have made more sense for him to faint upon seeing the _troll_.

"'Anyway, Nev and I went off to find Mione because she didn't know about the _troll_. But by the time we got to her, the _troll_ was entering the _toilet_. Long story short, Nev and Mione are just fine and I may have gotten thrown against a wall… or three.

"'I need to go now. _Madam_ Pomfrey thinks I'm asleep and she generally does bed checks at this time. I should be back in class by the end of the week.

"' Harry

"'_P.S._ If I started doing these sorts of foolish, idiotic, _Gryffindorish_ things on a regular basis, you'd tell me, right?'"

"I'd expect that sort of thing from my husband, not a child," said Iella. "Where is he going to school, anyway?"

"_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_, on Earth."

"Earth?"

"Look it up, they have a little bit about it on record." Arabella sighed. "Not that it's very accurate. Although it's referred to as Terra, which isn't what we call the planet. We haven't called the planet that since the fall of the Roman Empire. Now, there must have been a reason why you came to my office."

* * *

Harry sat across from Hermione and next to Neville as she got him caught up on what he'd missed, tutoring Neville at the same time. Normally they'd spend Saturday exploring, but since Harry had only been let out of the Hospital wing that morning, they'd decided to hole up in one of the hidden rooms they'd found and study.

Their fellow Gryffindors were rather annoyed with them. Threatening Weasley (and punching him… several times) might not have been the best idea. Not that Harry or Neville regretted it.

Harry was still surprised at how fierce Neville was when defending Hermione. Neville was the one to throw the first punch when Weasley called Hermione that "stupid know-it-all bint." And when that troll had cornered Hermione… Harry still couldn't believe Neville had leapt upon it's back. If not for Harry's attempt to distract it, Neville could have been killed. As it was, Harry had broken four ribs, punctured his lung, broken his left arm, and received a bad concussion.

Harry now understood why Neville had been put in Gryffindor. He might not stand up for himself, but Neville would certainly stand up for others.

* * *

Soon enough it was Cristmas break. Hermione and Neville had both been called home by their family, leaving Harry alone at Hogwarts. Well, alone except for the Weasley brothers.

The one good thing he could say about being left alone for break was that he had plenty of time to study. Most of the days leading up to Christmas were spent in the library or one of the numerous secret passages he and his friends had found reading datacards on his datapad, coming out only for food taken from the school kitchen.

Unfortunately he had to make an appearance at dinner on Christmas Eve. McGonagall had insisted on the one occasion he had actually seen her (apparently she'd been worried that he was pining for his friends or being tormented by fellow students cough-Weasley-cough).

Harry sat down at Gryffindor table, as close to the Professors as possible. Best not to tempt Weasley or his brothers. Hopefully Weasley would realize that picking a fight right in front of his teachers was a bad idea (although Harry wasn't sure Weasley had enough brain cells for that level of thought).

When Weasley sat down across from him, Harry realized that his suspicions about the boys brain cells were probably correct. Weasley had an angry look on his face.

"I'm going to tell McGonagall about what you and Longbottom did," he hissed.

Harry shook his head, making a clucking noise. "And who do you think they'll believe? Two boys who other than taking on a troll have done nothing wrong, or the boy who has been in four separate fist fights and two duels with Malfoy?"

Grabbing his book bag Harry stood up. "I'll leave you to think that over."

* * *

Harry awoke Christmas morning to find four presents at the edge of his bed. Hermione had given him a book entitled "Magical to Muggle Survival Skills: Everything Young Wizards Need to Know When They're Stranded Without a Wand" by Arbor Bog. "What To Do When They're Really Out To Get You" by Phineas Nigellus Black had been given to him by Neville.

He was unsure about the last two presents. One was obviously from his grandmother, but the other… Harry really didn't know who the other could be from.

Noting that Weasley was still asleep, Harry carefully opened the larger of the two presents. Inside was a box full a datacards, a vibroblade and a blaster. The knife came with a sheath that was obviously meant to be fastened around a leg, arm, or attached to a belt. The blaster came with four different holsters meant to be worn in different ways, depending upon whether or not he wanted to conceal the blaster and where he wanted to put the weapon.

'_Harry_

'_I don't want there to be another troll incident. I'm trusting you remember how to use your gifts. Be careful and don't get caught. Your second present is something that belonged to your father. I retrieved is from Dumbledore right before we left Earth._

'_You Grandmother'_

Unsure of what to make of the note, Harry hid his presents behind the bed hangings and carefully opened the second present from his grandmother. A silvery, shimmering cloth fell from the packaging. A cloak?

Once again making sure that Weasley was still asleep, Harry moved to the center of the room. Standing in front of the mirror, he put the cloak on. He couldn't help but gasp. An invisibility cloak!


	4. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Sorry about Chapter 2, I made a bit of a factual mistake. Negative Reinforcement should be Punishment (as pointed out by a reviewer). I wasn't really paying attention and I gave up on psychology after the intro course from hell (better known as Fundamental of Psychology).

Chapter 3

Augusta Longbottom was delighted by the changes in her grandson, if a bit startled. She hadn't realized how big a change Neville's two friendships would cause.

Neville looked much healthier, and even sported a light tan. He was getting much better grades than she thought he would. He even stood up for himself against some of his aunts and uncles. All in all, Augusta Longbottom was very pleased.

* * *

Dan Granger blinked as his daughter, Hermione, went off on another monologue about her frieds, Harry and Neville. One look at his daughter had made Dan decide that sending his daughter to Hogwarts had been a good idea, after all. He and Emma had been so worried that _magic_ would have a negative effect on Hermione.

Hermione had never really gotten along well with her fellow students. Dan could understand why. Being smart wasn't exactly smiled upon until one reached the work force.

He was still surprised that she'd made friend so quickly. But Neville sounded like a nice boy. Harry… Dan wasn't sure what to make of him. From Hermione's description the boy sounded like a wise guy that enjoyed pointing out the "stupidity" of his fellow students and rebelling against the "system".

Quite honestly, that Harry fellow sounded like a snarky little bastard. He still wasn't sure why Hermione had befriended the boy. Had she been so desperate for human contact that she'd been willing to befriend somebody like that?

"Hermione," said Dan, interrupting her rant. "Why don't you tell me some more about Harry? His family, home life, that sort of thing."

"Uh, English isn't his first language," said Hermione. "He was born near London, but after his parents were murdered he went to live with his grandmother in… I'm not really sure where. But they're in the middle of a civil war. Well, technically the rebellion began about forty years ago, but it was only in the past fifteen or twenty years that there were full scale battles."

"Why was his grandmother living in a country like that?"

"Mrs. Typho was from the UK originally, but her husband was from… whatever country it is that Harry's a citizen of. Uh, Mrs. Typho is with the rebels. She works for the government they've put together. That's all I know, really."

"He comes from a war zone?"

"Well…" said Hermione. "He lives in the country's capital city and there have only been a handful of fights there. The rebels took it over before he was born."

Dan's mouth opened, then closed. Finally he said, "Why don't you go finish up your homework. I need to speak to your mother."

"Dad-"

"Don't worry, baby. I just want to talk to your mother."

Hermione gave him a suspicious look, then left to go find her schoolbooks. Once he was sure she wasn't trying to follow and listen in, Dan went to go find his wife, Emma.

* * *

By the last week of vacation Harry was going stir crazy. He was so far ahead with his studies that, had he been attending school on Coruscant, he probably would have skipped yet another year. Left with little else to do, Harry decided to try out the invisibility cloak.

Every night Harry would explore the castle, trying to find what he and his friends had missed before. Eventually, Harry found himself in an abandoned classroom, facing a mirror.

It was a tall mirror with the words: _Erisad stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on woshi_ carved into the top. There was something about the mirror that was off. More than just the images that shouldn't be there. It was almost like the mirror was trying to pull him in and something was telling him to leave at the same time.

Harry examined the image in the mirror, trying to figure out exactly what it did. He was in the forefront with his arm around a brown haired, brown-eyed girl he didn't recognize. He wore a flight suit with the symbol for the New Republic on it. The girl wore a flight suit as well and had a lightsaber clipped to her belt.

In the background were several people, some he recognized and some he didn't. His grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins from his grandfather's side of the family, long since dead, and a man and woman he didn't know.

The man… looked a lot like him. Sure, he had brown eyes instead of green, and wore glasses, but the man looked like an older version of him. The woman was beautiful, with long, dark red hair. She had green eyes the same shade and shape as his own.

Pulling his gaze away from the mirror, Harry decided to leave further explorations for when Hermione and Neville returned. That mirror was… frightening. He would have said it was of the Dark Side, but Harry wasn't a Jedi. Dark Magic, that's what the mirror was made of. Dark magic.

* * *

"Why did I agree to this?"

Neville shrugged. "Hermione's scary when she decides to do something."

"Boys," Hermione muttered. "We're showing House spirit in an attempt to not become even more ostracized by our classmates than we already are. Quidditch is everything to our fellow Gryffindors, so we attend games that the House team is playing to show our support."

"Then we're on the wrong side of the pitch," said Harry. "We should be over with the Hufflepuffs."

"Harry!"

"What? The Gryffindor seeker couldn't find his own nose let alone the Snitch. I don't know about you, but I want to be rooting for the winning team. And that means that I'll be routing for Hufflepuff."

"Just sit on the Gryffindor side and pretend to root for our House," growled Hermione.

"Yes ma'am," Harry said quickly, his sense of self-preservation kicking in.

Forty minutes into the game, Harry's assessment of the Gryffindor Seeker was proven correct. Somehow, the idiot had managed to miss seeing the Snitch every single time it appeared. Harry had given up all pretense of supporting Gryffindor and was now shouting directions at the Seeker.

"You idiot! The Snitch is over there!" shouted Harry, not noticing the way the rest of the Gryffindors were staring at him. "To your left! Your left not your right! Other left you _nerfherder_! _Emperor's Black Bones! _How stupid is that guy?" Harry sighed and shook his head. "_Kriff_ this _poodoo._ They're _farkled_. I'm rooting for Hufflepuff."

It was then that Harry noticed the looks he was receiving. "_Shavit_," he muttered under his breath. "Heard that, huh? You guys do know that English third language, right?" More unidentifiable looks. "Oh, you guys don't want me to root for Hufflepuff, right? 'Cause I like rooting for a winning team and Gryffindor is getting its ass kicked."

Finally, one of his housemates said, "You really saw the Snitch?"

"Huh? It's not that hard," shrugged Harry. "Probably hiding again. Give me a couple minutes to find it again." Six minutes later, Harry pointed. "It's right there. Looks like Diggory might have spotted it as well." He shrugged, then turned to his friends. "The games pretty much over. Want to head to the library?"

* * *

The next two months were strange, to say the least. The Gryffindors tended to stare at him or fall silent when he walked by. Members of the Quidditch team (Seeker not included) would come up to him and ask Quidditch related questions when they saw him.

Whenever he spent any time in the Common Room, people would throw golf balls at him. Not very often, admittedly, but he now had twenty-one golf-balls in his trunk. Each time he caught one of the golf balls (he'd only missed two so far), people would spend the rest of the evening in whispered conversation or staring at him.

His friends weren't much help either. Hermione thought the entire thing immature and refused to get involved and Neville thought it was funny.

By the second week of May, Harry was rather annoyed. Which was why the events of Potion class shouldn't have been all that surprising.

Malfoy had been chucking potion ingredients into various Gryffindor's potions whenever Snape's back was turned. Seeing something flying toward him, Harry had reacted on instinct, grabbing the object out of the air.

Putting the frog spleen in his table, Harry stood up. "That's it! The next person to chuck something at me loses the hand used to throw it!"

"A hundred points from Gryffindor! Two weeks detention!" Snape growled.

* * *

"How could you do that?" demanded Hermione.

Harry shrugged. "What? They've been throwing things at me for months."

"B-but Professor Snape is a teacher," she said.

Harry and Neville shared a look. After a moment Harry said, "Snape is a man who enjoys tormenting children. Mentally and emotionally abuse your students is not teaching."

"I'm with Harry on this," said Neville.

Hermione huffed and went back to reading.

* * *

Harry met Filch in the Entrance Hall. Only two more nights of detention before he was done. Detention at Hogwarts really wasn't that bad. His grandmother had made him do harder things on a regular basis, claiming they were chores.

When Filch led him to Hadrid's hut, Harry realized that this detention was going to be different. Very different.

_

* * *

It was dark, the only light coming from an unfamiliar moon. They were at the edge of a forest. A large man, the boy with black hair, and a four-legged creature. At their feet was some sort of silver liquid._

_The large man went one way, the boy and creature another, both following the silver liquid. She couldn't help but shiver as she set off after the boy. Something about the forest was terrifying. She could only describe it as… the forest felt wrong._

_A light came from the tip of the boy's stick, lighting up the path. The boy seemed to be muttering under her breath, but she couldn't hear what he said. _

_The feeling of unease grew the deeper into the forest they went until she was begging him to turn back. Not that the boy heard her. Something bad was going to happen, she could feel it._

_Eventually the boy paused, then hid behind a tree. Wondering what he had seen, she walked forward. _

_The creature was beautiful and wonderful and dying. A being cloaked in black leaned down, taking some of the creature's blood. She watched in horror as the cloaked being drank the creature's blood. The cloaked being was the source of her unease,_ _she was sure of it._

_The cloaked being looked up, staring at the boy's hiding place_… 

She sat up slowly, glancing around. Both her brothers were still asleep; Jaina breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't want to deal with the questions they'd undoubtedly have.

He was still alive. The boy hadn't died when the large monster had attacked him several months earlier. She wasn't sure how, but he'd survived. Maybe he'd been put in a bacta tank.

* * *

Harry paced the length of his dorm room. What the _brix _was going on at this place? First a troll then something that drank unicorn blood. This was not normal, even by Hogwarts' usual lax standards.

He needed to think this out. Make a list of the weird things that had happened so far. Grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill he began.

_Something killing and drinking the blood of unicorns_

_Troll in the dungeons-Quirrell fainting_

_Stabbing pain in forehead when blood drinker looked at me_

_Same pain during Welcoming Feast_

_Forbidden Corridor-"horrible death"_

That seemed to be it, but there had to be more to it. What was down the corridor and why would there be something capable of killing a student in it? It had to be connected to the other weird things going on at Hogwarts.

* * *

"What are you doing?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You have that I'm-off-to-get-into-trouble look on your face," said Hermione.

"You do," nodded Neville.

"I-you don't want to know," said Harry. "Plausible deniability and all that."

"Harry, I'm not going to let you do whatever it is you're planning alone," said Neville.

Hermione sighed, muttered something about rules and then said, "I'm going with you as well."

Earlier that day their last final had ended. It was the first bit of free time Harry'd had in weeks, which was why he'd picked it to go explore the corridor.

He sighed. "Meet me here in an hour."

* * *

"Alohamora," said Hermione, opening the locked door.

Seeing what was waiting on the other side of the door, Harry cursed silently. Luckily a harp seemed to be keeping the three headed dog asleep. Harry motioned Neville toward the trap door.

Neville waved his hand frantically, calling Hermione over. They both peered down into darkness. They seemed to exchange several hisses and hand motions. With a shrug, Neville jumped through the trapdoor.

He faintly heard Neville say, "It's safe."

That seemed to be all the encouragement Hermione needed to jump through as well. With a mental shrug Harry followed after checking that the dog was still asleep.

"Everybody all right?" asked Harry.

"I think so," said Hermione. "Wait-the thing we landed on is-"

"Trying to strangle you, I know already," came Neville's voice. "It's devil's snare. Just relax and use your wand to create fire. It should let us go."

Soon enough they were past the room with the flying keys. They'd won the game of chess, but Hermione had to be sacrificed. After checking to make sure she was all right, Neville and Harry walked past an unconscious troll and up to a table, fire springing up behind them.

Harry read the riddle, then said, "Neville, drink this and stay with Hermione. There's only enough left to get one of us through the flames in front of us."

After a long moment, Neville took the offered potion.

* * *

_She was dreaming again. One of those strange dreams about the black haired boy. He was in a stone chamber this time. Behind him she could see strange flames, and farther back a table._

_He walked through a doorway into another chamber. A man stood in the center of the room, looking at a mirror. He seemed to be saying something, but her attempts at lip reading were unsuccessful. The feeling of unease was back. The man made her just as frightened as the cloaked figure had._

_As the boy and man talked, she looked around, eyes eventually resting on the mirror. She wasn't sure how long she'd been looking at the image, but when she next turned to look at the boy, he had a blaster out, pointed at the man. No, not at the man, at the face coming out of the back of the man's head._

_The boy shot twice. As the man fell to the floor, the face in the back of his head disappeared. She watched in confusion as some sort of spirit flew off._

Jaina put her arms around her legs and curled up in the corner of her bed. They didn't seem like dreams. But they couldn't be Force Visions. Those were images of the future. She was sure that whatever she had seen has been happening at the moment she saw it.

Was it possible to get visions about what was happing in the present? She thought about asking Aunt Mara or Uncle Luke, but quickly threw that idea away. Jaina didn't want to explain the reason for her curiosity.

* * *

Neville, Harry and Hermione were once more holed up in one of the secret rooms they'd found several months earlier. This particular room on the seventh floor could become anything a person wanted under specific conditions. Which was why they'd brought Hermione with them.

The room currently resembled the hospital wing. Neville and Harry had already treated her to the best of their ability with what the room had provided.

"You-know-who? Are you sure?"

"He took off his turban and talked to me," snapped Harry. "Of course I'm sure. I managed to take down Quirrell, but Moldyshorts escaped."

"Take down Quirrell?"

"I did what was necessary." Harry shook his head. "When a guy gives his body to the Dark Tosser, he deserve what he gets."

"Do we tell Hermione?"

"She came with us, she deserves to know what she got herself into." Harry glanced away. "We need to get back to the dorm before morning. They can't know we're the ones that went through their obstacle course."

* * *

They were mostly silent on the way back to London. In the week and a half since Harry took on Voldemort (and shot him with a blaster. Harry was still rather proud of that), they'd discussed everything from how the man had survived to where he'd been hiding to the implications of "you-know-who" still being alive.

Now they were thinking of what they would soon tell their parents or grandmothers. It had already been decided that Neville's grandmother needed to be informed (she was politically powerful) as did Harry's grandmother. But Hermione's parents would not be told. According to her they'd pull her from school if they found about Voldemort.

Harry was quite sure that his grandmother would insist on continuing his training at an even more difficult level once they left Earth. She might even call in some of the people who owed her favors to help.

At least he'd be able to keep in contact with Neville and Hermione. On his grandmother's instruction, he'd rented a post office box from Diagon Alley. All of his mail would be taken to his box in the post office next to Gringotts. Once dropped into the box it would be portkeyed to a box in Harry's possession. Anything he wanted to mail would be placed into his box, where it would then be portkeyed to the post office and sent off.

According to his grandmother, portkeys were not effected by distance, no matter how great. Which meant that despite being halfway across the galaxy, he'd still get his mail on a regular basis.

* * *

Curious about what type of blaster the boy had used, Jaina soon ended up at Aunt Mara and Uncle Luke's apartment. It wasn't so much the blaster itself that drove her to seek help, but the knowledge that the type of blaster might be a clue as to the identity of the boy.

She'd tried looking it up on her own, but she had no idea where to start. Not to mention Jacen and Anakin's continual questions about why she was so interested in blasters.

"Are you thinking of getting your own blaster?" asked Aunt Mara. "I believe your parents think you're a little young for that."

"I'm ten, not a baby," said Jaina. "And I don't want a blaster. I want to find out what type of blaster I saw."

"And where did you see this blaster?'

"Well…" said Jaina, trying not to think of the dreams. "This boy and he had this blaster and-"

"Oh, oooh," said Aunt Mara, a small smile on her face. "Was he a cute boy?"

Jaina felt blood rush to her cheeks. "I-I just want to know-"

"What type of blaster he had." Aunt Mara motioned her over to the computer. "Let's see what we can find. Can you describe it for me?"

It took well over two hours, but Jaina was eventually able to identify the blaster as a KYP-21 blaster pistol. Jaina never once noticed the look that passed over her aunt's face when the blaster was identified. Nor did she notice when Aunt Mara used the Force to contact Uncle Luke, asking him to see if he could get out of his meetings early.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Arabella Typho was more than annoyed, she was furious. Voldemort was back and three schoolchildren had stopped him. What was Dumbledore playing at? Why had he allowed somebody possessed with the spirit of the Dark Lord to teach children!?

She watched as children and parents walked out of the barrier between platforms nine and ten, waiting patiently for Harry to appear. After several minutes Harry and a girl with long brown curls walked out of the barrier. The girl ran over to a brunette couple while Harry walked over to her.

"Grandma," said Harry.

"Grades?" she asked. Judging by the look on his face this was not what he had expected. No doubt he thought she'd start out with Voldemort.

"A in Potions, Es and Os in all my other classes," he said.

"Mrs. Typho? Could I speak to you for a moment?"

Arabella turned to see the brunette man who had greeted the little girl.

"Of course, Mr…"

"Granger. Dan Granger."

Once they were several meters from the children, she said, "May I ask what this is about?"

"My daughter says that you and your grandson live in a country undergoing civil war," he said, not even trying to hide his true intentions.

"A peace agreement was signed three months ago, Mr. Granger," said Arabella. "Yes, Harry has been in the city during several battles. No, he was not a child soldier. Yes I work for the organization that used to be made up of rebels and is now a legitimate democratic government. Anything else?"

"Why?"

"I sent Harry to Hogwarts because my parents went to Hogwarts. I brought him up in a country in the middle of a war because I found it preferable to living in England." Arabella paused. "And because it was my husband's home. Now if you don't mind, Harry and I have a ship to catch."

* * *

"What's wrong?" Luke Skywalker asked his wife softly, watching Jaina happily eat her dinner.

"Do you recognize this type of blaster pistol?" Mara asked, careful to keep her voice down.

"No. Why?"

"The KYD-21 hasn't been produced in decades. It was mostly used by bounty hunters, assassins, and the like. It's a very good weapon. Very rare these days. Especially one in as good a condition as Jaina claimed it was in."

"What does this have to do with Jaina?"

"She came by earlier today looking for help identifying a blaster used by a 'cute boy' and this is one she said he used." Mara shook her head. "No kid would have a weapon like this unless…"

Luke nodded. "What else were you able to find out about the boy?"

"She won't tell me anything. Just turns red whenever I ask."

"I'll talk to Han and Leia."

* * *

"And that's it."

"You shot a Voldemort possessed Quirrell with your blaster." His grandmother seemed to be in shock.

"It's not like I know any spells that would really hurt him yet."

"Gregar would be proud," Arabella said after a long moment. "That blaster was his favorite, you know."

"Really?" Arabella generally didn't speak about their family much.

"I got it for him on our fifteenth wedding anniversary. I spent an entire year scrimping and saving for it." Arabella smiled. "He loved that blaster. He would have wanted you to have it. I've made sure to keep his weapons in good condition. When we get back to the apartment you can pick another blaster as your backup weapon. I don't want you to go anywhere without at least two weapons on you. Especially on Earth."

* * *

The journey back to Coruscant was not particularly difficult. Arabella had allowed Harry to plot their course along with flying the ship (Arabella generally stuck the route Gregar had chosen when going to and from Earth). Harry had even found a way to take a day and a half off the ten-day journey.

Umé didn't seem to mind being confined much. She'd spent the time affectionately grooming Harry's ever-messy hair, charming Arabella, and flying in the cargo hold.

Arabella spent much of the time teaching Harry more on self-defense (particularly the physical side of it). Harry himself wrote his essays (better not to answer why he was writing on parchment with a quill on Coruscant), and letters to Hermione and Neville.

Harry was quite happy when they finally reached their destination. After receiving permission to land, Harry gently guided the ship to the proper docking bay. He shut down the ship then went to help his grandmother unload.

* * *

By the time two weeks had passed, Jaina was thoroughly annoyed by her mother's attempts to fins out about the boy. She had known that going to Aunt Mara was not the best move, but this was ridiculous.

Slamming the door Jaina decided to head to the lower levels. At least Zekk wouldn't ask her questions about "the boy."

* * *

Wes Janson muttered a curse under his breath as he saw a far too familiar member of NRI approach. He owed Arabella Typho several favors, and from the look on her face, he was about to start repayment.

"Mrs. Typho," he said, trying to find the nearest escape route.

"Don't even think about it Janson," she growled. "You will show up at my apartment every evening after work for the next two months and your days off."

He couldn't help but gape at her. "No offense ma'am, but I don't think the Republic would smile on you blackmailing me into having sex with you."

Arabella rolled her eyes. "You're not going to have sex with me, you're going to teach my grandson everything you know."

Wes breathed a mental sigh of relief. "Your grandson?"

"Harry goes to a boarding school on my home planet. It's not the safest place to get an education." Arabella gave him an unfriendly sort of smirk. "You are going to be teaching Harry everything you know from shooting to physical fights to how to fly each and every summer until such time as you run out of things to teach."

It wasn't anywhere near as bad as he thought it would be. "If I do this we're even."

"Until you need another favor, Mr. Janson."

* * *

"Daddy?"

Dan Granger looked over at his daughter. She stood at the edge of the doorway, as if trying to hide.

"What is it, baby?"

"Are you-are you going to make me stop being friends with Harry?"

"No," said Dan, shacking his head. "Of course not."

He thought back to his father's stories the war. Richard Granger and his wife had refused to leave London, even when it was bombed, all because it was his home.

* * *

Harry watched the man, unsure of what to make of him. Finally, he said, "Grandma blackmailed a member of the Wraith Squadron to train me?"

"Essentially," Wes Janson said with a shrug. "So why are you going to school on such a dangerous planet?"

"It's a cultural thing," he said with a shrug. "So what's first?"

"You know how to use a blaster?" At Harry's nod, Wes continued. "Grab you're blaster and we'll head down to a shooting range."

"Already got it."

"Why-never mind. I almost forgot you were related to one of the most paranoid people on Coruscant," Wes said. "Make and model?"

Not wanting to take any chances with a blaster so important to his grandfather, Harry had decided to leave it in his room and carry two other blasters for his first training session with his grandmother's "friend." "434 blaster pistol and DL-22 blaster pistol, customized."

Wes raised an eyebrow. "Where'd you get those? And for that matter, who did the customizing?"

"They belong to the family, not any one member," Harry said with a shrug. "My grandfather liked to customize his weapons."

"May I see it?"

Harry gave him a suspicious look that made his unwillingness to give up his weapon quite clear.

"I swear that I only want to see what your grandfather did."

After a long moment Harry removed the weapon from under his shirt. Taking the power cell out, he handed it to Wes.

"What did your grandfather do for a living?" Wes asked, examining the blaster.

"He was a member of the Royal Naboo Security Force before he was executed for treason three years after Palpatine declared himself Emperor." Harry carefully took the blaster back and replaced the power cell. "He was one of the founders of the rebellion on Naboo."

"He did good work on that blaster," Wes declared. "Now lets get out of here."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sighed, popping another lemon drop into his mouth. Somebody had killed Professor Quirrel in front of the Mirror of Erisad and he didn't know who.

Mysteries were not things that Albus Dumbledore liked. Particularly mysteries that took place right under his nose.

* * *

Jacen bit his lip, he wanted to answer, really he did, but Jaina would be angry with him. Finally he said, "Nope, don't know where Jaya is."

His father gave him a look that quite clearly said he didn't believe him, but backed off anyway.

Jaina had been spending more and more time with Zekk and the Lost Ones. Mostly because they didn't keep asking her questions like their parents did.

He still didn't know what his twin was hiding. It didn't seem bad, but he couldn't be sure until he found out. And Jaina clearly didn't want to talk about it, something the adults didn't quite seem to understand.

* * *

Wes Janson motioned toward the open hatch of the flight simulator. "Hop on in."

"Y-you're really going to let me-"

"Of course I am." Wes paused, then lowered his voice. "If anybody asks, we were never here."

"Riiiight."

After Harry had settled himself into the simulator, Wes asked, "Can you reach everything? Need help identifying any of the controls?"

"I know what everything is," said Harry. "What's this set for, anyway?"

"X-Wing. I've already told you what you're supposed to be doing, get to it."

After the hatch closed Wes considered the thought that sneaking an eleven-or was he twelve now?-boy into a military base so that they could use the simulators might not have been his brightest idea. But it wasn't like he was going to let the boy use his X-Wing.

"Wes?"

Muttering yet another curse under his breath, Wes straightened up. "Mirax. What are you doing here?"

"Looking for my husband," said the black harried woman. "You?"

"Uh…" Wes motioned toward the screen showing what Harry's X-Wing was doing.

Mirax gave him a suspicious look, then sat down next to him. "Who's in there?"

"Is Valin with you?"

"My son's with his grandfather. What are you hiding?" Her eyes widened. "Please tell me you're not actually teaching an Ewok to fly an X-Wing."

"Yeah. That's it," said Wes, breathing a sigh of relief. "You're not going to tell Wedge, are you?"

Mirax sighed. "I should, but I won't. I think I'll go back to looking for Corran. He was supposed to be off hours ago."

Once Mirax left, Wes went back to watching the screen. Wait-how? Never mind. He'd just review the recording later. Harry certainly seemed to be holding his own.

Then again, in the weeks he'd been training the boy, Wes had yet to see Harry do anything less than hold his own. The boy was a good shot, an amazing shot for somebody his age. Harry had yet to do anything other than fight dirty, something Wes certainly appreciated.

* * *

Luna Lovegood was not what one would call… sane. Not that she cared. Luna was of the firm opinion that sanity was overrated (and boring).

Although how Luna knew she was sanity challenged… that was something best not told. One look at the explanation would make any normal person think that anyone who believed such a thing really was crazy.

Not that Luna would ever tell about the night after her mother died. There'd been so much magic… in the air, the house… her body… until she was faced with a choice: leave the house and retain her sanity or stay… and risk having her mind overload.

Nobody was quite sure why she had chosen to stay. Nor did they know she'd even had such a choice. All anybody knew was that Luna had been an intelligent, happy child until the day her mother died and after her mother's death, something in Luna had snapped, leaving her… in her present condition.

* * *

Wedge Antilles paused, looked again, blinked, then let his jaw drop. Why the brix was Wes Janson showing a child the right way to shoot a blaster rifle?

With that in mind, Wedge walked to where Wes and the boy were. Somebody had to stop this nonsense.

"… don't forget, if you hold it wrong the recoil could bruise you," Wes was saying.

"I know, I know. You've told me a _gazillion _times," said the boy.

"Hemm hemm," said Wedge, clearing his throat.

Both boy and Wes looked up. Wes looked around nervously, then said, "Hey, Wedge. What are you doing here?"

"It's the base rifle range," said Wedge. "Why is a child here?"

"Uh…"

"Mr. Janson did something he shouldn't," the boy said. "And General… something ordered him to do community service and now he's my big brother. I don't get it though. What could he have done in a flight simulator with a Twi'lek?"

"Harry," said Wes.

"What? Is this about Mom? 'Cause she doesn't normally run after strange men shouting about child support."

"Ha-"

"And what did you mean when you said Grandma felt you up, anyway? And why did you ask Mom how much for an hour? And why did you and Mom go into her room for a really long time? What does Yub yub mean? You were shouting it a lot."

After a long moment, Wedge said, "Carry on," and beat a hasty retreat.

* * *

"I believe you owe me twenty credits."

Wes gaped at Harry. "I can't believe you-"

"Well you did bet that I couldn't make him run away," said Harry. "You really should have put some limitations on that."

With a sigh Wes handed over the credits.


	6. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to update. I had a test, a paper, and a visit from my parents last week.

Chapter 5

Augusta Longbottom was… disturbed to say the least. If she hadn't known Neville so well, she would have thought him a liar.

Voldemort was back. Admittedly, he was just a spirit of some sort, but that was possible to overcome. She would need to keep a closer eye on both the government and the Death Eaters she knew of. Hopefully there would be some way to support Neville's claim.

* * *

Harry, Hermione, and Neville met up early on August thirty-first to do their Hogwarts shopping. After replacing their potion ingredients, getting new robes (both Harry and Neville had grown several inches, much to Hermione's annoyance), they headed over to Flourish and Blots to buy their texts. 

"I can't believe their making us get all these Lockhart books," said Neville.

"There is no way in hell I'm buying that fraud's books," said Harry.

"He's not a fraud," insisted Hermione. "He's very knowledgeable and brave."

"Do you know how many inconsistencies there are in his books?" asked Harry. "The man is not what he says he is."

"Gran says he used to be an obliviator with the Department of Mysteries and the only spell he could ever perform correctly is a memory charm," added Neville.

"But-"

"Just read one of his books," said Harry. "Look up all the supposedly factual information. You'll understand why we thinks he's a fake soon enough."

"You're a liar."

Harry turned around. He'd known that there had been somebody else several feet away from them, but he hadn't thought that the person intended to talk to them,

A first year girl (judging by the books she carried) stared at them with her too large silvery eyes. Though the colors were a bit… eclectic, she looked like the typical daughter of a moderately well to do pureblood couple in her modest robes. Her colorless hair was worn long and loose, curling into ringlets at the ends.

"What?" he asked.

"You lie every day," she continued. "Living with a dead woman, taking a name not your own. He's coming for you. You're farce won't stop him."

"I can assure that my name is indeed my real name," said Harry. "My grandmother is not dead, and nobody is after me. Well, unless you count Wes. But I think he'll get over the prank I pulled on him by the time I return home."

She gave him a sad sort of smile. "I never said that you knew what lies you told."

With that she walked off, picking up Lockhart's books on the way. Harry turned back to his friends. Hermione looked confused and Neville had a blank look on his face.

"Who was that?" asked Hermione.

"Luna Lovegood," said Neville. "Of the House of Smythe. I wouldn't take what she said too seriously. Everybody knows she went crazy after her mother died. She's completely delusional."

"The House of Smythe?"

"Oh, sorry. I forgot you didn't grow up around these sorts of things," said Neville. "A House is like you're extended family or clan. There's the main part of the family, which uses the actual name, and offshoots, generally from daughters that marry orphans or muggleborns or halfbloods with no claim."

"Oh," said Hermione. "Which House are you a member of?"

"Longbottom. He's the family heir," said Harry. "Me on the other hand… unless I marry some pureblood girl, I will end up being the founder of the House of Typho."

"What about you're Grandmother's family?" asked Neville.

"They disowned her when she was eleven. That particular House no longer has a claim on her or her descendants."

* * *

Arabella Typho sat in one of the darker corners of the Leaky Couldron, watching people walk by. She had little to do while Harry was shopping with his friends. Seeing a cloaked man approach, she briefly considered finding some other place to wait for her grandson. 

It took her a moment to connect the cloaked figure with a man she had known in passing. A Death Eater. What could he possibly want with her?

As he sat down, he greeted her with, "Hello Aunt."

Her eyes narrowed. "Even if I had not been disowned, I would not be considered your aunt."

"But we are members of the same House, Aunt Arrabella."

"Were. And at least have the decency to refer to me by my alias."

"Of course, Aunt Arilé."

"What do you want?"

He sighed. "There is talk among… my former companions."

"That you-know-who is back? I already knew. Although I don't know why you're telling me. In case you've forgotten, I'm a blood-traitor. I married a muggle and everything."

"I need a favor."

"And you think I'm going to help you because…"

"I'm not the one that needs the help…"

* * *

Glancing at his watch, Harry cursed under his breath. He was running late. If he didn't get through the barrier in the next two minutes, He would miss the Hogwarts express. 

With a second thought, he cut in front of the youngest Weasley brother and ran though the barrier. He did not notice the nobody came through the barrier after himself. Nor did he know that Ron Weasley had bounced off the now solid barrier, causing a crash.

Arabella had told him to take a taxi to Kings Cross that morning. He wasn't sure what was going on, but his grandmother had looked unusually serious. Unfortunately, it had taken forever to wave down a cab, which meant that he'd almost missed the train.

Walking down the corridor, Harry searched for his friends. Hearing what sounded like an argument, Harry paused. This might be interesting.

"Do you know who I am?" demanded an all too familiar voice. "I'm-"

"The dragon of bad faith," said a soft female voice.

It was that Luna girl. From the sound of it, Malfoy was about to go ballistic. Not that Harry blamed him. The girl could be a bit annoying. She did not, however, deserve whatever Malfoy and his goons were planning.

What if she really was insane? _Kriff_. His conscience was acting up again. It looked like he was about to live up to the Gryffindor name once more.

"How dare you, you peon. I am your superior," said Malfoy. "You will show me the respect I deserve."

Harry took the opportunity to open the compartment door. "You really want to be shown the respect you deserve?"

Harry didn't wait for Malfoy's reply. Harry leapt into action, kicking and punching Crabbe and Goyle in several sensitive places in ways that would not leave a mark (at least Wes's teachings were proving useful). Before Malfoy had a chance to react, Harry smashed the bottom of his palm into his nose, breaking it.

"Don't you know anything?" asked Harry, ignoring the pathetic noises the other boy was making. "Respect is earned, not bought." He turned to Luna. "Grab you're trunk, you're sitting with me."

Tilting her head to the side to get a better look at Malfoy, Luna blinked. After a moment, she took the trunk off the rack and walked out of the compartment after Harry. Neither spoke as Harry continued his search for his friends.

In the last compartment of the train, Harry found Hermione and Neville. Leaving Luna in the corridor, he went inside to have a quick word with them.

Ignoring the greetings he whispered, "Luna Lovegood is sitting with us. Malfoy is out for her blood."

Hermione fell silent, her eyes wide. Neville just sighed and shook her head.

"I'm guessing he didn't like what she had to say."

"Sounds about right. Although why he was bothered by the English translation of his name…" he trailed off. "I'll go help her put her trunk up."

Once they were all settled in and introductions made, Harry pulled out his deck of cards. He'd had to sneak off to the lower levels of Coruscant to get his hands on a plastic set of playing cards instead of the usual card-chips which were capable of changing when given the right signal by the dealer. He was saving those for later on (if they actually worked at Hogwarts).

"What're those?"

"Playing cards, from back home," explained Harry. "Since everybody's already finished their summer work, I was thinking I could teach you guys to play sabacc."

"Sabacc? I've never heard of that game," said Hermione.

"I didn't think you would have. It's very popular back home, but for some reason it just hasn't spread to any of the other countries."

"Sounds like fun," said Neville. "How do you play?"

"Well, there are seventy six cards," started Harry. "In the deck there are two sets of eight face cards and four suits. The suits are _coins, flasks, sabres, _and _staves._ The closest to positive or negative twenty three wins…"

* * *

Luna didn't really pay attention when they crossed the lake. Watching the Fauhsrhu had been so much more interesting. Fauhsrhu were pixie-dragon fly hybrids that liked to pretend they were lightening bugs. 

Then they entered the castle. Luna was firmly of the opinion that whoever had designed the landscaping to make the castle look evil had done a wonderful job. It would certainly attract Vampires, evil witches, and the source of all darkness: Prince Charming.

"…Luna. Lovegood, Luna," said a grumpy sounding woman.

It took a moment for Luna to realize that she was the one being called. Caught up in the music coming from the walls of Hogwarts, she hadn't been paying attention. With a twirl and several perfectly timed dance steps (Luna didn't want to do anything to disturb the music, including dancing off beat), she sat down on the chair and put on the singing hat.

_'I don't see many like you, Miss Lovegood. Most witches don't risk magical overload until their mid-twenties… Some cunning, in a roundabout fashion, but no ambition to use it… Relatively loyal and hardworking, so long as you're interested… but you don't have the drive… You love knowledge…. Learning is everything to you, even if it's not about… _normal_ subjects…You were certainly brave, staying in your home, even though you knew the magic would break you're mind… Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, Miss Lovegood. I haven't sorted anybody this difficult since Mr. Typho… you're friend, is he… You aren't paying me any attention, are you? Of course not. I'm sure Crumple-Horned Snorkacks are much more interesting than an old hat… might as well put you with your friends in "_GRYFFINDOR!"'

* * *

Harry blinked as Luna was sorted into Gryffindor. He hadn't been expecting that. He motioned for Hermione to move over slightly to give Luna room. Once she realized that the hat was done sorting her, that is. 

On the ride up to Hogwarts in the carriages drawn by strange skeletal and scaled winged horses, Harry, Hermione, and Neville had come to a decision about Luna. In the time spent with the girl on the train, it had become apparent that Luna was not in touch with the same reality as they were. Something that would no doubt be a point of ridicule during her time at Hogwarts. So they'd decided to… take her in. Becoming Luna's friend wouldn't be too hard. Even though Harry was quite sure Luna was insane, she was really a very nice girl. And intelligent… if you could keep her on track.

As if waking from a trance, Luna removed the sorting hat and stood up. The moment she looked their way, Harry waved her over. Sorting hat falling from her hand, Luna danced her way over to them.

"Does the castle always sing such dreary songs?" asked Luna. "They're beautiful, but a funeral march is a bit much to listen to everyday."

* * *

Jaina flopped down next to Zekk. It had been harder than usual to sneak out of the apartment. Her parents were starting to get suspicious. 

Looking around, Jaina still wasn't sure why Zekk had wanted to meet here. Dex's Dinner was in CoCo Town, not one of the best neighborhoods. Certainly worse than where Zekk and Peckhum lived, but better than the places they went when looking for valuables for Zekk to sell.

After they ordered lunch, Zekk gave her a look she couldn't identify. "What's going on?"

"Huh?" Jaina fought the urge to run out the door. She hung out with Zekk to avoid the questions, not to be questioned.

"You come by more often, without your brothers, and half the time you look like you're going to cry when you show up." He had a look on his face that made it quite clear that she wasn't going to get out of this without answering.

She wasn't sure why she started talking. "I-Mom and Dad and Aunt Mara and Uncle Luke keep asking me questions and they won't leave me alone."

"Why?"

"I don't know. And they won't stop and I don't want to talk about what they're asking about and it's not dangerous or anything and they won't leave me alone." She sniffled, fighting the urge to cry.

* * *

Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Luna met in the library after they're last class of the day. Luna sat next to Harry, writing an essay for Transfiguration. One glance at the essay she was writing made Harry wince. He doubted Professor McGonagall had asked about transfiguration in the Humdinger-Heliopath war. 

"What was that Howler about?" asked Hermione. "The woman was yelling too loudly for me to make out the words."

"Weasley drove a flying car to school instead of catching the train," said Harry.

"Oh."

"The House-Elf Conspiracy," Luna added happily.

* * *

Harry sat down in front of the fire with his friends and pulled out his pack of card-chips. After extensive testing, he'd been assured that they did, in fact, work at Hogwarts. 

"Anybody up for a game of Sabacc?" he asked.

"Sabacc?"

"Never heard of it."

Harry looked over at the source of the almost identical voices. The Weasley twins, Fred and George, if he remembered correctly.

"It's a card game from back home," said Harry.

"Count us-"

"In."

Harry had to admit that playing Sabacc with six people was certainly more interesting than with four. It didn't take long to teach the twins. And the twins didn't seem as bad as the rest of the Gryffindors… well; they had a sense of humor at least.

"You're coming to try-outs this weekend, right?" asked Gred.

"Wood would be devastated if you didn't show," added Forge.

"He's had his heart set on you joining the team since the second game we played last year."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Was Wood the one chucking golf balls at me?"

"Yeah."

"He can be a bit obsessive."

Harry considered his options carefully. He couldn't turn down the invitation. He and his friends were not on the best terms with their classmates to begin with. But he wasn't sure he wanted to play either…

"A bet," said Harry. "If one of my friends or I win the next game of Sabacc, nobody will bother me about Quidditch again. Either of you win, I'll try out."

"Three against three," said Luna, sitting between the twins.

"Fair enough."

After several rounds, Harry called the hand showing the _Mistress of Sabres_, the four of _Sabres_, the six of _Staves_, and the _Queen of Air and Darrkness_ equal to 21. Hermione's hand was equal to 23, Neville's was –6, Fred had a hand worth –19, and George 17.

"Ah well. We tried," said Fred.

"You get to break it to Oliver."

"No, you."

"Wait, Luna hasn't shown her hand," said Hermione.

When Luna put down her cards, Harry sighed. "Looks like I'll be there on Saturday."

"Huh?"

"That's an Idiot's Array. It beats everything, including Pure Sabacc." Harry paused. "I don't have my own broom, I'll need to use the school brooms."


	7. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Yeah, I know, this update is more than just a couple months coming. I'm sorry it took so long. Can anybody guess which "Imperial" Luna mentions in this chapter?

* * *

Chapter 6

Twenty minutes in the air was enough to prove Harry a far superior seeker. Even though he rode an old school broom, none of the others trying out for the position came close to his speed or skill.

Much to his annoyance, he made the team. Neville and Hermione had congratulated him while Luna had muttered something about bludgers and House-Elf heroes.

Sometimes Harry really began to wonder what reality Luna lived in. It seemed like an amusing place.

Classes were… mildly entertaining. After confirming the uselessness of Lockhart and his books for herself, Hermione had decided to spend the following classes with the buffoon poking holes in everything he said. Harry was just grateful she had stopped drawing hearts on everything.

All in all, other than the bothersome amount of time taken up by Quidditch practice, everything seemed to be going well. Which was why the letter from his grandmother was confusing, to say the least.

"Something wrong, Harry?"

"Huh? No, Mione," said Harry, unwilling to reveal more than he had to. At least about Coruscant. "Lu, what did your father say about you being sorted into Gryffindor?"

Luna looked up from her embroidery-was that some sort of spaceship? It looked rather similar in design to a TIE of some sort-and said, "'I wish you well in your new life.' Could you teach me your native tongue? I would love to learn _Galactic Basic_."

Harry was really beginning to wish that he hadn't told Luna and Hermione the name of the language. But without knowning any Earth languages other than English, Latin, and Greek, he'd been forced to tell them the truth. Part of him knew that Hermione would soon realize that he did not come from a known part of Earth, and soon enough, he would have to explain that there really was life on other planets. But he wanted to avoid that conversation for as long as possible.

"Could you teach me as well?" asked Hermione.

Harry sighed. Let the games begin. "You in, Nev? Can't be any harder to teach three than it is to teach two."

* * *

By the time Halloween came around, Harry was ready to drop. From sunrise to sunset, his time was spent in class, Quidditch practice, or with his friends. At night he struggled to do as much schoolwork from the New Republic as possible.

Harry was still trying to figure out what Voldemort was up to. But other than general unrest and that odd letter from his grandmother, he had nothing but hunches.

And Luna was acting odd-even for her. She had started putting together what could only be her dowry in her spare time, even though Harry knew she was not yet betrothed. Harry just hoped that Arabella's letter had not been hinting that she was arranging for him to marry Luna. He liked her well enough, but found her much too crazy to consider as a wife. At least in his opinion.

Luna was knitting, crocheting, and weaving a multitude of blankets, shirts, trousers, pillows, and tapestries. All of her pillows, blankets, and tapestries had images of objects and scenes not found on Earth. Although Harry did wonder why she had so many blue glaciers.

Harry still hadn't figured out where Luna had gotten her looms from-or why it was in Hogwarts. But the looms, along with the rest of her dowry related projects took up a prominent spot in the Gryffindor Common Room, the hidden room they spent most of their time in, and the girl's dormitory-according to Hermione.

Not particularly keen on the idea of being around so many people, they had decided to eat dinner in the hidden room. It was the anniversary of the deaths of Harry's parents and the day before the anniversary of the day Neville's parents were tortured to insanity. Neither Harry nor Neville wanted to celebrate, something the girls seemed to have understood.

"Why are you making men's clothing?" asked Hermione, her curiosity finally getting the better of her.

Luna blinked at Hermione. "It's for my dowry."

"You're not betrothed yet," pointed out Neville.

"Perhaps, but soon I will be."

"Betrothed? Are arranged marriages common?"

Harry shrugged. "When my grandmother was a kid, the only witches and wizards that didn't have arranged marriages were Muggle-Borns and the occasional Half-Blood."

"That's barbaric," protested Hermione.

"It's not that bad," shrugged Neville. "These days, only the blood purists and the traditionalists arrange marriages for their children. Well, most of the time. I don't have an arranged marriage and neither does Harry."

"Who's the lucky wizard?" asked Harry.

"Oh, he's not a wizard, he's a Muggle," confided Luna. She then said four words in _Basic_.

"Hell no!" snapped Harry. "Just-no. No. You are not marrying an _Imperial_!"

"Being the son of an _Imperial_ does not automatically make one a member of the _Remnant_," Luna explained.

"Doesn't matter. You will not-"

"I will, Harry. He's a good man."

"Bu-"

"Let's head back to the Common Room," suggested Neville.

_

* * *

_

It was the boy again. He, along with the brown haired boy and girl with bushy brown hair from Jaina's first vision were walking down a stone hallway. With them was a girl with long blonde hair.

_The blonde looked at Jaina for several long minutes, walking backward, then nodded. She slowed, falling behind the other three, before settling at a good pace to walk beside Jaina. How had she known? Nobody else had ever seen her before. It must have been her imagination._

_The black haired boy stopped, glanced around, and then began to run. Jaina, along with the others followed closely. Several hallways later, they came to a halt._

_Something was written on the wall in front of her. Was that written in-Oh Force, it was. Someone had written something in blood. A small cat was tied to the wall below the writing._

_As people began to gather, Jaina spoke, knowing that nobody would hear her. "_What does that say?_"_

_The blonde turned to look at Jaina again. In heavily accented Basic, she said, "_The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware._"_

_"_Y-you can hear me?_" Jaina gasped._

_"_Of course I can._"_

_"_Who are you?_"_

_"_I'm Luna, that's Harry, Neville, and Hermione,_" she said, motioning toward her companions._

_"_I'm Jaina_."_

_"_I know_."_

Jaina awoke with a smile. Now she knew what the black haired boy's name was.

Curling up to go back to sleep, Jaina wondered how Luna had seen her. Or for that matter, how Luna had heard her.

* * *

Harry walked ontot he Quidditch pitch, not bothering to hide his annoyance. Sure he enjoyed Quidditch well enough, but this Chamber of Secrets thing was much more important. The story they'd heard from Bins didn't come close to explaining it.

But he did love his new broom. Riding his Nimbus 2000 was almost as enjoyable as flying a ship.

_

* * *

_

Jaina blinked, a bit surprised to have another dream so soon after the last. A quick glance was enough to tell her that she was at an event of some sort. Perhaps a sport.

_She was in a crowded stand high up in the air. Hermione and Neville were to her left, both prominently wearing red and gold. Luna was to her right, wearing red and gold, a large fake furry head atop her hear._

_"_Harry is over there,_" said Luna. "_The one in red and gold above the others._"_

_"_What's going on?_" asked Jaina, her eyes never leaving Harry and his strage flying stick._

_"_A Quidditch game_."_

_Luna then began to explain the rules. She occasionally speculated on if the Weasley twins (two of Harry's teammates) shared everything or asked about strange creatures such as Nargles and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks._

_Jaina barely heard Luna, watching in growing horror as a bludger chased Harry relentlessly. There was a short break as Harry talked to the Weasley twins and the team captain, then continued, with the bludger on his trail. The ten year old tried not to scream as the bludger his Harry, obviously breaking something._

_Somehow he caught the small silver and gold ball before crashing to the ground._

* * *

Harry let out a silent string of curses that would have made Wes proud. Gilderoy _kriffing _Lockhart had "healed" his arm, leaving it boneless. It was times like these that he really missed bacta. Skele-grow could be used as a torture device.

He tried not to move as he felt somebody sponge his forhead.

"Who are you?" asked Harry, realizing that whoever it was felt different from Madam Pomphrey. His good hand rested on a vibroblade he had hidden from the school nurse.

"Dobby, Harry Potter sir. Just Dobby," said the House-Elf in a high pitched voice. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir."

"Uh… right. Why are you here?" asked Harry, putting on his glasses. He didn't bother to asked why the elf thought him the _boy-who lived_.

"Harry Potter sir must leasve," said Dobby. "Much danger you are in."

"What sort of danger?"

"Mustn't tell. Can't tell. _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ knows the truth-knows who you are. Tried to warn you, but-"

"Warn how?"

"Tried to stop the owl-post, but the other House-Elves at the post office wouldn't let me. Dobby thought if Harry Potter sir didn't receive letters, he would not return to Hogwarts. And Harry Potter sir was to miss the train, but sir caused Ronald Weasley sir to miss the train instead. Dobby thought that if the bludger-"

"Then it was you. You tried to kill me!"

"Not kill you, sir, never kill you! Dobby wants to save Harry Potter's life! Better sent home, grievously injured, than to remain here, sir! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter sir hurt enough to be sent home!"

"Oh, is that all?" griped Harry. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you wanted me sent home in pieces?"

"Dobby cannot lit Harry Potter stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more-" The House-Elf froze, clearly horrified.

At the sound of footsteps, the House-Elf disappeared.

A moment later Dumbledore walked in, carrying something that looked to be a statue with the help of Professor McGonagal. His eyes widened in horror. If the Chamber of Secrets really had been opened, she should have been safe. She was a Pure-Blood.

McGonagal was sent to retrieve Madam Pomphrey. A moment later, both women were back.

"What happened?"

"Another attack," said Dumbledore. "Minerva found her on the stairs."

"There was an apple and a muggle toy gun with her," said McGonagal. "We think she was trying to sneak up to visit Typho."

Harry gently lifted himself up a few inches. Luna hay on her bed, clearly petrified. In her right hand was one of his blasters.

"What does this mean, Albus?" asked Professor McGonagal.

"It means," said Dumbledore, "that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again."

Once the adults left, harry carefully snuck over to Luna's bedside, ignoring the pain in his arm. There was a look of determination on her face. Judging by the position of her body, she had been crouched down when petrified.

Trying not to jostle his bad arm, Harry carefully began to remove the blaster from her grip. It was one thing for them to think his blaster a toy gun, but there was too large a chance of something going wrong to leave it here. In the end, he'd had to take it apart to remove it.

At least it had distracted him from the pain of his regrowing bones.

Once he had reassembled and hidden his blaster, Harry was left only with his thoughts.

"Why did that House-Elf think he was Harry Potter? And why did Dobby think he was in danger?

Luna ad obviously known she was in danger-why else whould hse have taken one of his blasters? But she had taken the risk to either visit him or take on the danger herself. Judging by the snack, she may have been trying to warn him.

This wasn't the first time Luna had known things she couldn't have possibly known. The name of the man she thought she was going to marry. Her "House-Elf conspiracy." For a moment Harry thought back to the day he'd met Luna. Her words…

Was she Force Sensitive? It was certainly a possibility.

As soon as he got out of the hospital wing, his research would begin. Luna was under his protection. He would not let her petrification go unavenged.

He would find whoever was responsible for this. And once he found them, Harry fully intended to ensure that the person/creature wished for death before he ended it's life.


End file.
